


It Never Ends

by moroder



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, in short bots are humans and their life isn't bed of roses, storytelling mostly from Nick's perspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moroder/pseuds/moroder
Summary: Your favorite song sounds fun on repeat for only like five times straight. The apocalypse on repeat sounded nowhere near fun, but you had no choice.
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so after I got hyped on L4D again these days (especially L4D2) I remembered an old idea of mine where AI-controlled players in-game are actual people and go through all that shit with being abandoned, mistreated etc etc. I am always very tender towards them so yeah
> 
> the title is also a reference to BMTH song of the same name and its lyrics kinda fit the mood

He remembered the first time they’ve all seen each other – at the stairs of a burning hotel, staring into the face of imminent death, hoping for fate to spare them and just let them escape whichever way possible. Fate was a bitch though, he always knew that, so when the helicopter took off without even circling around the roof, he wasn’t surprised – perhaps mildly pissed. Not the first time he’d have to shoot his way through health hazards.

He remembered how cheerful they were overall. High contrast with his own hopes. It was for the best, he eventually decided, because the optimism really kept them floating even in the worst cases; with blood, yours and not, streaming down your face and inhuman limbs entangling you, going on was getting increasingly difficult if you didn’t have some sort of blind faith to rely on. He reckoned he had to learn a thing or two from his newfound teammates.

He remembered the excitement radiating from his younger companion as the kid floored the pedal and drove straight through the mall doors and all the zombies outside. Probably never done that before, huh? Even though the southerner annoyed him greatly under usual circumstances, it was still somewhat nice to see someone feeling so… full of life. In the middle of decay, that’s it. Maybe letting the kid drive was paying off after all. He was so tired of running, not only in the apocalypse setting but in his present overall; it felt unusually pleasant to just let someone drive you through shit, allowing yourself to observe the melting world around.

He absolutely truly remembered the raised bridge they stopped at and some chick up at the metal barricade, trying to communicate. His usual charming skills didn’t do shit to his surprise – mostly because he wasn’t really trying. A major part of his reminiscences about this section of their journey was something he’d like to erase from his mind and suit completely. Truth be told, he shared this attitude towards a lot of things that followed.

He remembered the slow and inevitable change in their surroundings as decaying corpses started to resemble humans more than mutated infected carcasses; he easily saw the horror of their younger ones. He also noticed how quickly it dampened under the circumstances. People weren’t supposed to adapt to killing each other so quickly, he thought grimly, shooing away his own past choices; he was a different story, but these three… Just like Rochelle was the one he rooted for, the team looked so sincere and lighthearted that he hoped for them to stay this way. The closer to New Orleans though, the harder it hit.

People were killing people. It was obvious now as they walked through the half-destroyed debris that used to be living houses; he even stumbled upon a couple shot dead in their probably family bed. They didn’t have time to dwell on it, still retaining hope for rescue and constantly pushing forward, but the image intruded his mind against his will and carried on with him. He watched his companions patching up wounds and wondered sometimes if someone could break into their safe rooms back in the amusement park or the swamp village and shoot their unfortunate faces dead just like that happy couple. The doors were bolted and barricaded each time they settled in and someone always kept a watch, so there was no way for someone to get in unnoticed. However, human mind has a tendency to cling onto an idea and recycle it over and over until you beg for mercy. Reading the notes on the potential Carriers wanted dead, he thought that perhaps getting shot in the face in their sleep was the best fate they’d deserved.

He remembered them keeping high hopes until the very end. Despite seeing New Orleans in shambles, despite the living hell crumbling around their every step, despite very clear hints at Carriers not being welcome in society of remaining survivors. Blind faith, he reminded himself. They were lucky to get so far in almost one piece, maybe they’ll be lucky enough to live even afterwards, not lined up against the wall and sent to oblivion with a bullet to the head.

He remembered the blood, sweat and tears of joy on their faces as all four of them made it to the chopper, barely alive after a very harsh meeting with a Tank; they had to carry Ellis inside at a high risk of missing the damn helicopter and meeting their ultimate end here. The kid protested and told them multiple times to leave him to die but hell if Coach would listen. And as much as Nick would’ve enjoyed the thought of getting rescued together with a lonely woman before, it didn’t appeal to him that much now. He saw the troubled kid finally breaking a pained smile after the decaying landscape of New Orleans; he heard the team finally taking a deep breath and shaking off the brains and intestines and guilt, and he felt himself a little off the pessimistic horse at least once in their journey.

He remembered the first time he saw Rochelle and Coach try out a shooting weapon. From the way Ellis wielded two pistols at once, he considered the boy to have at least some experience with the stuff, the other two survivors causing his worries the most. They sounded genuinely shaken and outright disgusted upon having to kill something even though it was no longer humans coming at them; an axe in the head worked as the best cure, so even after Nick hastily explained how to reload ammo clips in the pistols they found upstairs, Rochelle was reluctant to shoot. It took her several hours to take aim at those humanlike creatures without her hands shaking, and on several instances when she shot right past Nick’s head and he cursed on the bullets whistling over him, she switched back to the trustworthy fire axe she carried from the very hotel and didn’t touch a shooting weapon for a long time after that. He wished for her to be just a little bit bolder but that’s a change that would normally take days if not months.

Life made them deal with uneasy choices so by the time they’ve reached the goddamn bridge, any doubts were reduced to ashes in their minds and hands. It felt easier to tear through the rotting carcasses but at the same time it burdened them with emptiness inside their souls. Killing wasn’t new anymore, and so it wasn’t for those waiting on the other side of the bridge. Did it make them the same? Nick didn’t know and was honestly tired of thinking it over as hours passed. In the helicopter, his lungs burning and feet swollen, he threw the rifle on the floor and leaned against the interior, closing his eyes to get at least a moment of peace. The bird was monstrously loud and there was no way he’d get to sleep here, but he wasn’t looking forward to it.

He remembered how startled Rochelle looked back when she accidentally shot him in the shoulder. The almost-friendly-fire incidents happened to Ellis and Coach too and Nick never hesitated to complain about their shithead aiming, but he’d never use the same wording about Ro; he expected her to make a mistake sooner or later and was prepared to bite on a painkiller pill to dampen the downsides, but never he expected to see such a shocked expression on her face. He tried convincing her that shit happens and she had to concentrate on the rotting meat around, not his occasional whimpers of pain; she nodded dumbly each time he came up with a new reason to turn away from his wounds.

That’s why, when he opened his eyes again and saw himself standing back in the streets of Savannah with Rochelle pointing her Magnum to his head, he was more shocked about her determined stare than the sudden change of scenery.

He didn’t remember _this_ in her.

Worst of all, the next second he heard a cracking voice call out for help and saw, to his horror, Coach lying incapacitated on the ground nearby; most of the blood around him on the concrete clearly used to belong to him. Ellis stood right next to him, saying something indistinct and probably not English at all – Nick wasn’t sure with his accent sometimes. The kid then proceeded to draw his shotgun and shoot the downed man three times in a row; the figure jerked, echoed with a squelching noise and turned over, dead silent. A logical outcome, Nick thought with his hands freezing as he realized full well that he was next in queue. Ro tilted her head, the weapon still pointed at him.

He didn’t remember this in _them_.

“Надо было сложность поменьше поставить,” she muttered, observing him. “Быстро слишком вышло.”

“What kinda strategy is that?!” Nick blurted out before the flash banged in front of him, certainly making him lose half of his skull even though he would likely not embrace the feeling afterwards.

The deafening Magnum shot was still ringing in his ears the second he opened his eyes, hoping for it to be just a weird dreaming sequence that he’d got in the helicopter, even though it was impossible to fall asleep on it. Shock could still make him lose consciousness however, so he tried to stick to something he borrowed from his teammates: high hopes.

It didn’t work. The engulfing darkness around him was just the confirmation that ultimately he was dead this time. Real dead, not like that time he bled so hard he spent more than twelve hours out cold in a safe room. He wasn’t really a religious man so ending up _somewhere_ after death was certainly a new experience; maybe Coach was talking real shit about taking God seriously…

He heard muffled sounds from behind him and turned around. It was just pitch black darkness, nothing shifted around him but the sound was seemingly coming closer. It resembled… laughter?

Realizing he was fully functional in this sort of limbo, Nick darted off to the sound source and bumped face into something cold and solid; it felt very much like the doors Chargers used to pummel him into. This led to another idea and he started banging on the surface in hope that the laughing one stops and pays attention on the other side of the doors. He heard two people talking and another one cut in, their tone painfully familiar.

“Coach, I’m here!” he tried to cry out and he was pretty sure his throat obeyed but nothing happened. He wanted to repeat but then he heard two short shotgun bursts and a sound of body falling right next to his position. _Oh God, it’s happening again._

He turned away from the barrier that separated him from life and slowly sat down on whatever was present as a floor in this place he was implied to be stuck in. Okay, he thought, killing zombies was shit crazy. Killing people who may have not yet fully turned into them… even crazier. Seeing evidence that people didn’t hesitate to kill others of their kind – yeah, that was gross but it applied to many, many years of mankind. Humans were hostile to anything. But… _Ellis? Ro?_ He still had faith in the last three people in this whole rotting world and now they threw it down the drain so easily…

If only he had more time and a clearer mind to react… he could eliminate them both. But in this goddamn room… he didn’t even know if he existed in the end. He pinched his hand to make himself wake up in the rescue chopper, and to his horror he felt nothing at all.

The next time he opened his eyes and saw something other than darkness felt like several days later. It was now a lot more like the safe rooms they spent short stays in: a room in some apartment building with two reinforced steel doors, one barricaded and the other supported by a metal pipe across; cardboard boxes and mattresses all around, accompanied by empty bags and other stuff indicating former human presence. He saw a staircase that led upstairs, but other than that there was nothing to explore and most of all, no life to detect.

The only time he woke up alone in a safe house was back when he regained conscience after that particularly tense run-in with a Hunter that shoved him into water so he could barely scream for help and ended up in a near death state; he didn’t even remember being carried to safety, just waking up to his chest feeling like an Alien nest. Even back then, when he initially saw no one around, Ellis must’ve been on the watch and heard him groaning in pain so he quickly came into Nick’s line of sight and the man was no longer alone.

But this… felt different. As if he was the only survivor this time. To think that back in The Vannah he considered the idea plausible… At least he wasn’t suffering from lacerations that forced him to stay down, so he could inspect the place; as he passed by the stairs, he decided to walk up just in case. In their journey through various states they often passed through up and down, finding all sorts of stuff around – both useful and deadly, so why not check this one out as well.

The second floor wasn’t much different from the first save for two boarded windows with tiny streaks of daylight peeking through. Dust specks lazily floated in the air, indicating that it must’ve been quite an abandoned safe house or that the second floor was simply not much in use by the survivors that passed through. Various posters were splattered across the walls, including some old music bands, movies and advices on how to save lives. Nick saw them all around the places they’ve been to and grimly noted to himself that those never worked; they should’ve instead advised people to learn to shoot a gun as soon as possible to defend themselves in a better fashion. Then again, some who could shoot a gun probably made a most terrible use of it: the kill counter on the wall in that house in New Orleans was a clear example.

The posters suddenly ceased to exist in his mind as his gaze shifted to the farther corner of the second floor and he saw a figure lying motionlessly on a mattress by the wall. He’d give no shit about dead bodies and nameless people that died here before, but this one wasn’t nameless – on the contrary. He approached hastily and dropped on his knees in front of the body; initially suspecting the worst, he touched the carotid artery and was relieved to feel a steady pulse under his fingers, so his next motion was to move his hands down to the person’s shoulders.

“Hey Ro,” he pleaded, shaking her, “wake up. Please, please show me you’re fine. Can you hear me?”

Thankfully he didn’t have to raise his voice and attract anyone unwanted, as the woman stirred and groaned under his hands. She winced and opened her eyes but as soon as she recognized the man in front of her, she shot up into sitting position and grabbed his arms in an emotional gesture.

“Nick! Jesus, I thought I’d never see you again!” she exclaimed, and he silently chuckled that it was the first time she sounded so happy about him. She quickly examined him and continued, “Are you okay? I’ve seen you go through some serious shit, you know?”

“None that I’m aware of,” Nick answered in half-playful manner. “Let’s, uh, maybe find out where we are at first. Because one minute I’m on a copter, next I’m on…”

“…an under the river tour, huh?” Rochelle interrupted and he stared back.

“Not really. But seeing that our experience must be shared, I’m positive I’m not the only one insane anymore.”

“Ah, come on, Nick,” she punched his shoulder lightly with a fist. “So you remember being on the rescue chopper too.”

“I do. After a shitload of zombies and cars flying at me, it’s hard to forget finally being hauled from the place.”

“Yeah, right, that’s what I recall too. Now, can you give me a hand so I could take a look around?”

He helped her up calmly and for the first time since he arrived here he’s noticed one crucial thing: they both lacked guns. It was his oversight to bypass this check before waking Ro seeing as she killed him the last time he saw her; but his mistakes aside, since they left the burning building in Savannah and continuously tried their luck in evacuating, they always carried at least one pistol by their side in case shit happens – and shit never failed to. The fact they lacked their emergency means of self-defense didn’t mean anything good. Or, on the contrary, it did, but Nick was too used to mostly seeing downsides as they proved to happen more often. A scenario of being completely safe for example would be a lot less unlikely to encounter compared to a zombie horde.

“Hey, Nick? Come see this,” Ro called out from downstairs and he followed the voice. When he saw her again, she was standing by the bolted door, holding onto the steel bars the door consisted of and staring outside. As she heard him coming, she waved a hand in an inviting gesture.

“This door is… weird,” she said with hesitation, trying to fit correct wording into the situation. Nick raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Try looking past it. I can’t see a damn thing…”

“Tried unlocking it?” he chuckled and she shot him a glare.

“I did. You can try that one too if you want.”

He soon realized what she meant by sending him meaningful looks instead of calling him an idiot right away. The additional pipe supporting the doors from the inside felt like it was welded onto the steel because Nick couldn’t make it move a single inch. Eventually he gave up and followed Rochelle’s footsteps by staring into the darkness outside, and it proved to be just as useless. Strange enough, after several minutes of watching the outside void he started getting the feeling that he’s already witnessed it before. When thoughts became unbearable, he finally turned away to face Ro again and spoke up.

“Yeah, there’s nothing,” he said bluntly. She smirked at this and nodded.

“Seems like someone locked us up here… Though I don’t really see why,” she muttered.

“Hey. Hey, Ro. You still think we’re not hallucinating the whole thing?”

“How do you think we’re supposed to find out? Pinching yourself to wake up, you think that’s gonna work?” she laughed.

“Yeah, you know, there’s a more pleasant way to destroy one’s dream sequence,” Nick answered and pointed at his lips.

“No way! I’d prefer this dream going.”

They exchanged short chuckles, but sadly the small talks and jokes didn’t help in enlightening them about the situation. So Nick decided to bring up the shared insanity topic again.

“On a serious note though. We absolutely – ABSOLUTELY – made it to the chopper. Am I right?”

“Yes, you are. Ellis got downed by a Tank’s rock at the very end and Coach carried him over, too…”

“Yeah, I remember that part. I wonder where they are now…”

The last sentence brought him back to the scene he witnessed upon opening his eyes in Savannah and he visibly shivered – so hard that Rochelle noticed it.

“Are you okay?” she asked cautiously.

“I’m fine, it’s just… Flashbacks, you know.”

“Oh.”

She looked away, strangely satisfied with such a short answer when she’d usually delve deeper into the matter. Nick noticed her uneasiness too and recalled the first thing she said upon waking up.

“Uh, Rochelle…” he started carefully, unsure of his further word choice. She instantly looked back at him. “You mentioned something about me going through hell… Can you elaborate?”

“Nick, I… I can try, but please don’t look at me like I’m some lunatic, okay?”

“Sure thing,” he chuckled and expected her to smile in response, but her face was dead serious so he cut the chuckling, too. “Go on, sweetie.”

“I… well, I closed my eyes back in the helicopter and when I opened them, I was… back at Georgia where we tried to pass under the river to get on the other side of that bridge. You must remember.”

“Yeah, it’s a scenery I’d rather wash away from my memory,” Nick grimaced.

“There were four of us as usual… You guys moved very fast, I could never keep up the pace, as if you already knew where to go from before. But we’ve never been to the tour before, I remember it. And then… there was an incident with you, a Hunter…” she shuddered, “killed you and we weren’t there to save you in time.”

“Well, it looks fairly like what’s happened to me back in the swamps.”

“It does but… not in the sewers under the river. But it doesn’t end there, after we found you, Coach took a defibrillator unit out of nowhere and… and he shocked you, and you came back to life! And you felt more or less alright, and… I mean, I may not be a medic but defibs don’t work like that, Nick! And then you just… shrugged it off and went on like nothing happened… Don’t look at me like that, you promised to believe me!”

“I _do_ believe you, Ro, I’m just… trying to fit all that into my own scenario.”

“Your scenario?”

“Yeah, you know… I opened my eyes in the middle of the streets, back there when we were trying to get to that goddamn mall, and I saw a gun staring straight into my forehead. Put to it by you.”

“Me?!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “But I’d never… I’d only…”

“I know, Ro, you’d only shoot me accidentally but let me finish. Ellis shot Coach to death while you held me at gunpoint.” With each word Rochelle’s face shifted to more and more terrified. “And then you said something I didn’t understand and pulled the trigger too.”

“Oh I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, “I’m sorry I did that… even if it wasn’t me? Or was it? I’m not sure anymore…”

“Hey, hey, girl, you wouldn’t willingly shoot me, right?” Nick hurried to reassure her. “Besides Ellis wouldn’t wanna kill Coach too, so yes, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you two acting.”

“This is all some sort of a sick nightmare,” she muttered with distinct denial in her voice. The gambler sighed.

“One last thing, okay? I woke up in pure darkness after that, as if I was locked up somewhere and people even passed it by but no one came to rescue me. And it may sound like some supernatural bullshit but… I think that darkness behind the door is exactly the same.”

“Everything in our stories sounds like supernatural bullshit,” Rochelle noticed grimly. “This is just sick… I don’t understand. Maybe those people at the military have injected us with something that made us hallucinate and locked us up… but what for? And where’s Ellis? And Coach? This makes no sense…”

She kept muttering her own versions of the way they ended up here, clutching her head in attempt to dampen the disorder in her thoughts. Nick just watched with fading optimism about initial fact of finding another surviving member of the group.

“Maybe they’ve just shot us and this is all just a dying brain’s fantasy,” he said idly. Rochelle didn’t register that.


	2. Chapter 2

He went through four other episodes before finally meeting another person in the safe room. They all shared the same similarities: it was something from their travels in search for safety, it featured his three companions, it started and ended abruptly and it almost always featured someone getting shot to death. The last episode with the sugar mill was different though, as they didn’t only survive but also heal each other on frequent basis. It looked easier in those sequences, just a couple of swift motions to patch the man up, and Nick would sometimes spend around half an hour using his medkit despite being experienced with first aid procedures. Out of five scenarios he’s lived through, the last one made him feel closest to his actual team even though he knew full well it wasn’t them. They didn’t walk the same way, they communicated in their own fashion, they climbed obstacles seemingly just for fun and often screamed gibberish at each other. It looked like a bunch of children on their day off at school.

He hoped till the last moment that after Virgil departed with them on board, it would all end peacefully and he’d just float down the river, the rest being a bad hallucinating trip. But his vision faded to black and he quickly figured there was too much to hope for. The darkness before his eyes dissolved slowly only after he felt someone shaking him by the shoulders and other body parts; the crudeness of this gesture immediately gave out the one in charge of it.

“God, Ellis, stop it,” Nick groaned, rubbing his eyes and trying to adjust to the already familiar room. He expected himself to lie down in the same way like he found Rochelle the last time but he was in fact sitting with his back against the wall. The mechanic stood on his knees in front of him and eyed him with concern, his hands still on Nick’s upper arms.

“You know there’s still a gunshot wound in my left shoulder?” the man muttered with reproach as if Ellis injured him seconds ago and left him to bleed out. The kid backed up instantly.

“Sorry, Nick. Ain’t wanna do damage, just, y’know, making sure you’re okay. I saw you over there just sittin’ in place and thought, shit, is he even alive?”

“ _Of course_ I am alive.”

“Well, I ain’t a wizard to see that from across the room, man,” he said defensively. “Besides, you won’t believe what I’ve just been through! You wanna listen?”

“Under any other circumstances I’d say no, Ellis, but the current situation is so bizarre that even your stories won’t make it worse.”

“Fine, man! So I kinda drifted off in the chopper back there, y’know, after a Tank nearly pushed me off the pad…”

“I remember.”

“So I opened my eyes and I was back at Whispering Oaks! It ain’t that I don’t wanna come back and ride somethin’, but shit, man, we’ve left the place like whole lotta time ago. And then there were you guys! You, Ro and Coach. D’ya know where they are by the way?”

“Outside of range I guess,” Nick waved off. “So did they… _we_ behave in any odd way? Shooting each other, all that stuff?”

“Not really, man! We’ve been well-packed and handlin’ it well. Truth be told I thought I’m dreamin’ of the same evening we spent in Whispering Oaks, it was so detailed and so… so cool!”

“Ellis, please try to remember if anyone was weird. Something, anything, someone who would be from a different reality or stuff like that?”

“I, uh… I don’t think anyone… Ah, wait, there’s one – Ro’s been actin’ strange sometimes and ran ahead as if she already knew where to go, haha… She’s a clever girl, I trust her on that!”

“And you followed.”

“We all did! Well, we spoke to each other and shit, but yeah… Y’know, I just remembered something else, man: you guys mostly ignored me. Not that I’m surprised but… Even when I asked you guys about stuff, you never seemed to answer. But you talked to each other all the time. Something about time, about difficulties… I didn’t really get the rest.”

The mechanic’s experience sounded a lot more pleasant than Nick’s own. He thought for a moment whether he deserved this and his companions actually had a better time with someone replacing him.

“I don’t remember getting’ here though,” Ellis continued. “Like, one moment I was there on a bird and next I end up here and it’s all empty… I’m pretty sure you weren’t here too, I just turned around and saw you where there’s been no one!”

“I’m not surprised,” Nick muttered, rubbing his forehead. The kid went on ranting about his perfect-like-a-dream-sequence recreation of Midnight Riders finale and he hurried to wave a hand at him, “Ellis, please…”

“Yeah I know y’all never have time to listen to my stories, but hey, it’s something super weird this time,” Ellis responded in offended tone.

“I know, I know, Ellis, I’ve been through the same stuff you’re talking about and I’m tired as hell.”

“You’ve… wha? You’ve seen it too? Been there with me?”

“No. I really don’t want to discuss it right now… Let me rest.”

He suddenly felt very nauseous, not sure if the effect was caused by Ellis’ storytelling or his natural body reaction to being tired. Though it felt just like any time he went to sleep lately, he was afraid his dream would just end up being another surviving sequence.


	3. Chapter 3

There was no way for him to track time in a state of constant unwilling survivor, so he virtually lost himself in the travels. He stopped counting times he ended up at a familiar place long ago. Each time their crew seemingly escaped, it just faded to black for him and threw him back into a different episode. By that moment, his original version of seeing hallucinations of a dying brain was no longer working; this whole gag lasted too long for that. But how else could he explain all this?

Maybe those bastards injected him with something psychedelic to see his reaction. As to why - there could be a connection between the virus growing in one’s body and their mental state; the four unfortunate souls they’ve just picked up were perfect candidates for that sort of research. Nick wasn’t really a fan of science fiction but he had read a fair share of it back in his childhood and remembered some of the most unnatural plots. When his mind would finally shut itself down in denial, the cure could probably be found using his body cells.

If their idea of research was to put a Carrier into situations where their closest companions played them like cards and traded their life for anything valuable every other episode, the science team was doing well. For Nick, however, this wasn’t something very shocking. He expected his newly acquired buddies to split up the very moment they found better guns and got a tactical advantage, sometimes even wondering grimly whether they’d be the ones who end him or the apocalypse would. But betrayal never came. Trusting someone felt unnatural, it even _hurt_ him to openly form an alliance with someone; no matter how cool and autonomous he considered himself to be, teamwork always proved to be just a little bit better than his tactics. His wounded pride and self-confidence healed slowly as those people proved to be the only ones worth staying with. He would unlikely admit it out loud but step by step, they cured the sore backstabbing wound he never cared to treat.

That’s exactly why the shock therapy research would work just great on him. The ones he only just grew to trust hurt him the most. He was pretty sure others were going through the same things judging by their short time together in the weird empty isolated safe room; their stories were mostly different, less gloomy and way, way more optimistic in overall teamwork tone. He never told his friends how exactly they killed him in his scenarios: he just couldn’t find the heart to. They had very little time to spend together so they shared the best they could speak about.

More often than others, Rochelle would rant about the boys in her sequences leaving her behind and tending to heal her the last, although sometimes they happened to have a tendency to keep everyone healed and well. Ellis would then rush to correct her, saying how he’d never abandon her anywhere and that those sorry ass replacements are just a trick to kill her mood. She usually agreed on that and reassured him that her actual team would never do anything bad to her. Sometimes Coach would join in and lament how he tried so hard to have the fatherly position in his episodes and keep everyone safe and in high spirits, but of course people tended to take his support for granted and just leave him behind if they felt like staying in the safe room. Then it was Ellis and Rochelle’s turn to reassure him how they’re really a team of one for all and all for one, not abandoning anyone for their profit; Ellis kept reminding him of the helicopter rescue in New Orleans when Coach risked his life to bring the kid to the bird in one piece. This sort of encouragement seemed to lift the big man’s spirits considerably each time they saw each other, and it wasn’t very often. Nick was mostly silent about his experience for the reasons stated earlier but he did sometimes back up their reasoning. The survivors felt like they needed to ask him about the stuff happening to him, too, but with the amount of time they had…

Those people in his sequences behaved more and more weird with each iteration. He remembered very well how they were heading through the sugar mill again; more often than not, his teammates would approach the ominous crying women and shoot them without a second thought. They did it with ease, as if having done that a thousand times already, and even after seeing it done so often Nick couldn’t suppress the inner wish to dart off and barricade himself when he heard a Witch become agitated. That one time, though, his team moved in a more careful fashion unlike anything before; he didn’t mind staying away from the Witches but still he wasn’t careful enough moving through the building and accidentally shoved one of them while defending. He knew he was screwed this time but as he felt the bitch dig her nails into him like a warm knife into butter, he saw his companions just… standing and watching? They discussed something, not even lifting a finger to help him, and he saw in his last moments alive how one of them ignited a Molotov.

He thought it was an isolated incident but on the restart when he startled another Witch in the cornfield near the gas station, he saw an ignited bottle instantly flying in his direction and quickly figured it had something to do with his negligence. The pissed off girl tore through him at the very same moment the bottle hit the ground and engulfed him in flames; as if that wasn’t enough, he saw his team following his path and jumping into fire right after him. He remembered them being quite battered after their time holding out at the elevator so they would most probably meet their death along with him – and they did. The next time he stood at the safe house among them, waiting for them to be ready, he heard them arguing and throwing gestures at him though he couldn’t make out the words they said. They all talked in same voices they used to have but it sounded like a whole different language; judging by the way they pronounced some consonants, something Slavic. Maybe Russian, maybe something fairly close. Nick was almost certain his companions didn’t know other languages besides American English, so that was another part of his observations left unexplained.

That one final time they went through the mill, Nick tended to trail behind so that he wouldn’t be the reason for another unfortunate incident. He still saw his team being angry with him and he tried to make amends by sharing all things he could: calling out for extra throwables and healing items, even sharing painkillers and his own medkits at the cost of his well-being. The moment they stepped into the gas station safe room, all three exploded with joy and yelled something indistinct to each other and Nick as well. He didn’t understand the reason (it wasn’t about making their way to a safe room, he was sure) but was happy they looked so delighted after all the things he jinxed. Then later as they’ve left the station and headed back, they killed every single Witch they’ve encountered, making Nick even more perplexed about the whole thing.

“They called it an achievement,” Rochelle explained to him the other time he saw her – the real her. “I had a similar experience and you guys yelled at each other for being bloodthirsty and willing to kill Witched when the achievement stated to leave them alone… something like that.”

“This… sounds like a videogame,” Nick slowly uttered, trying to process the thing he just said. Under normal circumstances he’d probably scold himself for drinking too much and ending up talking crap, but Ro nodded at him with a sad expression.

“It does. I’m more and more convinced that whatever we’re going through is some… sick testing for us. Maybe they’re trying to see how our brains worked in all those days trying to survive…”

Nick sighed and turned away.

“They were actually nice to me a couple of times,” he spoke after a while, not sure if anyone was still there to listen; Ro was sitting in front of him and looked up at the sound. “I heard you - them - talking about how their friend was forced to leave and they were now stuck with me and had to continue like this. Coach… the thing behind Coach wasn’t pretty hot about this idea. Ellis though… He kept talking like I was actually a newfound friend to him. You know, no one else talked directly to me. They all consider me a burden, a useless waste of space.”

“Oh Nick, you never told us that,” Rochelle spoke softly, shifting a little closer to him. “We share our stories about those weird… dreams, but you always sit there so quiet and…”

“I don’t think you guys would like to listen to this shit. It’s a nightmare over and over again. I heard you going through similar stuff but…” He lowered his chin. “It’s like every time I appear in those episodes I’m designated to suffer. They leave me behind, they scold me, whatever I do they don’t see as valuable. I know I can be rude at times too but I at least say thanks when I mean it… you know.”

“I feel you,” the woman chuckled bitterly. “It’s like anything you do won’t ever bring you to their level, huh? I’ve had some unfortunate episodes about it, too. I ain’t even talking about protecting their probably last woman on Earth, I’m just…” she sighed, “asking for some respect as a member of the team.”

Nick didn’t respond, still and staring somewhere in front of him. Never the most positive in their group, he started to look grave lately; and it meant no good as he usually looked sarcastic and self-assured, not grey like the weather in town of Ducatel that other day. Ro moved closer and gently put a hand on his shoulder, startling him a little.

“You’re not alone in this, you know. We don’t see each other often now… I mean, the real us. Not those apparitions that try to be us. But it doesn’t mean we’re separated forever now… We’re still a team, Nick.” She tried to look into his face but he didn’t comply. “One for all and all for one, remember?”

He looked excessively tired – as if he wasn’t tired on the very first time they all ended up here; so many sequences later, it would’ve carved a track in his skin. Even if he wanted to support her point of view, he just didn’t have it in him to talk. Rochelle heard the steel door unbolting and knew immediately it was her turn; she didn’t exactly know how it felt, it just… called out for her. _They’ll get lost without your help, Ro._

“Hey, I need to go. I’ll see you again soon, okay?” she spoke quietly; when no response followed, she rose to her feet and left the safe house in the middle of nowhere, succumbing to welcoming void outside.

Nick sat still for a very long time, eyes closed though he wasn’t asleep a single second. Yeah, she’ll see him again soon enough.


	4. Chapter 4

“Man, do you think we deserved this whole thing or somethin’?”

The next time they all see each other in the ‘lobby’ as they came to call it, their morale is the echo of its initial image. They skip the experience sharing contest and just sit in silence for a while, adjusting to surroundings and absorbing each other’s company. It felt oddly satisfying around the room given that it was the only place they could see themselves being real, not props to the survival scene or anything.

Of course the silence wouldn’t last forever since Ellis was present in the group. They’ve discovered over time that his talkative nature wasn’t just about his tendency to share anything even mildly interesting, it was his way of coping with the situation when the whole world was falling apart. As long as you talk so freely, you live and let others know you’ll live for a little longer. Ellis told them about it in a safe room after a particularly harsh argument over his behavior with Nick; ever since that talk, Ro felt a little guilty for stopping him mid-sentence each time he tried to tell a story about something he considered encouraging, so she gave in to it more often. When he ran out of stories, he would immediately pick up a random topic about their surroundings and even if no one backed up the talk, it brought him considerable comfort. He was the most talkative one inside the lobby too, probably compensating for Nick’s silent tendencies. His words were sudden and loud in stagnant air.

“What do you mean, sweetie?” Rochelle turned to him.

“Well… Y’know, there’s a thing named purgatory. Y’all stay there till you’re free of whatever evil things you’ve done.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re talking about,” she chuckled uneasily. “But we didn’t die to go there, remember? We were getting rescued.”

“Perhaps we _did_ die back there,” Coach noticed grimly from his corner of the room. He was sitting on an old mattress next to Nick, cuddling his knees. “I don’t remember anythin’ after we saw that damn bridge fall apart, so…”

“Coach. Now I thought you were our team spirit and cheerleader,” Ro raised an eyebrow at him.

“This shit’s getting on my nerves, lil’ sister. I’m really startin’ to believe we’re past the point of no return.”

“But aren’t we supposed to be in for some… well, serious issue?” she continued reflecting on the topic and gasped suddenly. “Could killing zombies be a sin?”

“Thou shall not kill, the Lord says. But we were defendin’ our asses out there so I guess we’re off the hook here, team,” Coach solemnly spoke.

“Well then… I don’t remember anything fatal I’ve done in my life besides all that shit after the Infection hit. I guess it was just a usual amount of stuff someone would do,” Rochelle shrugged. “You guys ever did anything worth going to purgatory?”

“Keith did a lotta stupid shit,” Ellis instantly called out, “but I rarely took part so… I guess the only unholy thing I did was drinkin’ too much one time. Don’t really think it’s supposed to be so important…”

“Can’t remember all I’ve done during younger years, but I’d remember for sure if it was something shovin’ me so far up Devil’s ass,” Coach added. “And you, Nick?”

He turned to the man next to him and punched him in the shoulder lightly. The last survivor glanced at him with indefinite expression.

“Don’t even ask,” he muttered, “it’s no use. My life’s a load of shit.”

“Yeah, seeing how you’re already not allowed to own a gun… Did you jinx us again, Nick?”

Rochelle spoke in a joking tone but he looked up at her with such gloom in his grey eyes that she immediately regretted saying this. Unfortunately enough, Ellis took the thought close to heart as well.

“Hey, you have a point,” he started with a squint. “If we’re one for all and all for one, doesn’t that mean we’d have to atone for all our sins combined?”

“Ellis…” Ro began but it was already too late.

“Yeah, y’know, listen, this makes sense! Nick’s probably got a list of sins longer than our-”

“Hey alright, let’s blame all our failures on me now!” the gambler yelled and shot up from his place in front of Ellis; Coach gestured at him calmly but he didn’t pay attention and continued, “Let’s all just get a fucking dog to kick! I don’t care anymore, do what you want, I’m nowhere near being sane anyway.”

He glared at the kid one last time and headed upstairs in large angry steps. No one followed him, exchanging confused glances instead.

“Next time you talk to him won’t be an easy one,” Rochelle noticed grimly and Ellis was about to retort, but Coach raised a palm at them and they fell silent.

“Leave ‘im alone for a while. We’ve been driven over the edge for quite some time already, no wonder he snapped,” he spoke calmly like a big wise old man – a role quite suitable for him although he’d argue about the ‘old’ part.


	5. Chapter 5

There was no point in continuing. They all came to this thought at different stages of limbo but it was a shared conclusion.

It was easier this way. Holding on to hope stung like something awful when over and over it didn’t pay off, the lowest point of this mess being their failures at the rescue finales as they started to call it, picking up the way other survivors named the events. Sometimes it required more than ten attempts and the players kept on trying, sometimes even killing off the unfortunate survivors for no reason in particular. Were they trailing behind? Useless? They did follow and shoot a gun so why?..

The nickname ‘players’ was something to ease their understanding, too. They came up with it after sticking to the version of their surroundings being a videogame setup; Ellis seemed to like it the most after hearing it and quickly came up with terminology. Along with potential meaning he implied, another one quickly took its place nearby: the whole survival thing was like playing for those entities - run around, get through a tough part, celebrate. They mostly seemed to be very experienced and didn’t dwell on the short runs between the safe rooms, like it was just to get from one point to another and not find safety like any normal human being in a zombie apocalypse. Judging by their actions, they had no idea what being in an apocalypse felt like at all.

After a while, the overall tone of tired silence inside their limbo safe room has shifted to rare stories on how the players sometimes behaved in an unexpected fashion – just to lighten up the atmosphere of a vicious circle of being abandoned and lost and neglected over and over. Coach had a tale of him and a teammate holding out already inside the rescue chopper and then having the teammate come back for someone incapacitated; they both failed in the end, making Coach the only survivor. Usually this meant a passport back to the beginning as players tended to want to stay alive, at least one of them. This time, however, they let Coach escape alone. Rochelle also had similar experience with her team helping her up till the very end just like another one who clearly was a player, not human like her; the player didn’t make it to the boat and another player remaining alive came to help him out but failed eventually, thus letting Ro escape. Ellis had a whole lot more stories about this for some unknown reason. He explained it with his easygoing personality, saying that those players just came to like him and helped him out of shared sympathy.

Being the least willing to speak up in the team, Nick also had a story close to heart which surface he just barely scratched in an old conversation with Ro. He didn’t want to jinx himself by telling others as usually when he shared anything positive about himself, hell broke loose the next time. That one sequence was in particular very coherent and well-maintained throughout the whole course; despite their sequence being the final one, the one with a goddamn bridge to false safety, the one so tempting to leave others behind and sprint through, they never did so and watched over each other. They talked a lot, making jokes about how they used to do this so many times and yet none has been successful so far; they also mentioned something about ‘doing this on expert’, that was the bit Nick overheard and wasn’t really sure what they meant. He still felt like an outsider, always closing the group and being just… never good enough for them despite occasionally hearing players of Ellis or Rochelle saying thanks or complimenting him on good shooting.

The further they went with that particular team though, the guiltier he felt for not going all out on their way. His strategy of surviving in those groups was largely the same: be a sharpshooter and don’t wander off, the rest required him to be interested in the process but he just couldn’t bring himself to. It probably gave players more reasons to actually hate him as he sometimes missed them crying for help and being captured by unusual zombies that posed a more significant threat. The sounds of zombies shrieking and people yelling have all blended into one long ago. He just didn’t see enough sense in getting through another sequence to make best of his performance, that’s all. That particular group, however, made him feel closest to his actual human companions he was so brutally removed from. They smelled like determination to get through, like blood and sweat and soil, and most importantly they had that spark of caring still inside them burning at its brightest.

At a critical point during their final run, right at the end of the bridge, Nick had a particularly harsh meeting with some Hunter; he could hardly stand and hold himself to keep his insides from falling out at the same time. He was the closing one again and knew that others were already far ahead; he knew very well that this Hunter might’ve sealed his fate this time just like many other finales. They wouldn’t come back for him despite all teamwork they had before; everyone was just too scared to leave the vehicle, he could understand it very well, but Coach had no hesitation to leave the chopper and carry Ellis on board in their personal experience…

These thoughts dissolved instantly as he felt someone throwing his hand over their shoulder and lift him into walking position; he saw the cap and opened his mouth to say something but the kid shushed him. “I ain’t gonna leave you here, come on. Limp it to the chopper with me.”

He couldn’t believe it. A player _came back!_ Out of all scenarios, all unfortunate episodes of being mauled to death, someone comes back to save his sorry ass even after obvious underperforming… At this moment Nick’s guilt for being a useless sack of meat finally peaked and he spoke hoarsely, holding onto Ellis’ shirt, “I’m glad we’re on the same team this time.”

The mechanic seemed surprised at his words but didn’t stop moving, instead calling out somewhere, “Hey man, wow! That’s something new!”

“Huh? Where you at?” Coach responded – just as always, loud and clear in Nick’s head as if the big man was standing right next to him and not probably at the helicopter pad.

“I’m taking Nick back from the bridge,” the player of Ellis responded cheerfully as if he wasn’t carrying a completely torn teammate but casually taking a stroll.

“Ugh, you came all that way back? We’ve already reached the rescue, why bother…”

“Oh c’mon, you know I always bring them to safety.”

“They won’t thank you like us people.”

“Yeah sure, that’s why you should leave them like this? They’re a part of our team too, you know,” the kid went on, and despite him talking with a different English accent it still reminded Nick of his real Ellis so much…

“This is why we lost all those finales, man. You can’t keep your sorry ass off those bots and I come back to save you and we all fucking die.”

“Think about how good it feels to have your whole team rescued,” Ellis laughed, unmoved by his teammate’s rants. “He said he’s glad to be on the same team with me, you know?”

“He? You mean your bot friend?” The player behind Coach snorted. “I don’t remember them saying shit like this.”

“Well I ain’t shitting ya, he said this exact thing as I helped him up. Could be somethin’ that shipped in that update?”

“Maybe. Hey, hurry it up, okay? There’s another horde coming.”

That one time, Nick stepped inside the helicopter for probably the first time of all his sequences. No one simply bothered to protect him or check up on him actually following, not being punched off the bridge. As the chopper finally took off, he heard the triumphal explosions outside and his team celebrating and felt like home again, like he wasn’t going to fade to black and return to ‘lobby’ to wait for next agonizing episode.

He wished this team would stay with them forever instead of all others he had to endure. But it’s only happened this once and those players never made a return. He didn’t have to blame himself any longer for not giving enough because none of his teammates would’ve cared; he spoke words out of necessity rather than actual will to help and aid and it was ultimately adding to his gloomy attitude of a silent listener.

The next time he met someone in the safe house again, it was just him and Ellis in the middle of a blanket camp. The dusty air and the daylight sun never changed around the room, creating a steady image of a stationary place in time and space. The kid was sitting on a mattress next to a wall, the one Nick usually occupied while watching his companions discuss their experience; he looked unnaturally quiet and only gave the older man a single look as he stepped in.

“Mind if I join?” Nick asked simply. Ellis shifted slightly to the side to give him more space to sit down, although the mattress was pretty long on its own. The man came down next to him, resting himself against the wall and taking a deep breath.

They sat in silence for a while. Nick figured that neither of them wanted to talk about anything, even insignificant. He noticed that even though the survivors shared their positive experience to keep each other’s spirits up, they got tired very soon and returned to spending their spare time in quiet. They mostly sat around the safe room motionlessly, drawing sharp breaths from time to time; Nick once heard Rochelle whimpering upstairs and then Ellis trying to console her but he couldn’t make out exact words and frankly was too tired to try. What a nice picture you are, he thought back then, not giving a shit about your friends breaking down in face of fucking disaster; just like your dad told you way back in your childhood to keep to yourself and never show your weaknesses. It was partly the reason Nick stopped contacting his family as soon as he left Illinois; he did a good job keeping his problems to himself as taught.

“Hey Nick? I know you’re tough and shit but… Do you ever feel like you’re going insane in all this?”

Ellis startled him out of thoughts about his poor family relationship; he couldn’t quite put his finger on it but the hick sounded so… down this time? The cheerful notes Nick heard in his voice all the time have been eroded drastically.

“I’m fine, sport. You?” he said casually as if the question was about some nonsense like feeling cold outside, not his melting mental condition at all.

“I don’ mean to be cryin’ okay… I’m just… not sure anymore.”

Usually when Ellis talked about something, people didn’t have to pull it out of him: they actually had to tell him to stop at some point. But he didn’t go on this time, just throwing these shallow words down on the floor in front of them and waiting for someone to pick them up. Or not waiting for anything at all. Nick listened to his breath patiently in case he continued speaking but nothing came. The time they spent together in here was already dangerously long this time; Nick feared that any second someone would get pulled to duty performing, so this time unlike any other before he actually encouraged Ellis to talk instead of shutting up.

“What do you mean?” he asked in the same easygoing tone. The kid didn’t even look back at him.

“Man, don’t you know? We’re all goin’ through the same shit here. Those guys who take control over you, those players… they have no idea where they at, no feelin’ of the absolute shit around. They just… they run through like everythin’s fine and not… dead and wrecked all around.”

“Yeah, I get that feeling too. But that’s something you get used to, no?”

“Y’never get used to this, man! I just… I know shootin’ zombies feels good sometimes but…” he further lowered his chin, “it ain’t somethin’ I’d do for a livin’, man. I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I remember the speed you went with that car,” Nick said into nothing. “I figured you wanted to get out fast.”

“Yeah right… Those were nice hours of drivin’.” Ellis almost smiled at this and it gave the conman a slight relief that it was going the right way. Then his face fell again as he went on talking. “When I walked through that shit I was sure I’d see my gang again someday. That I’d see Ma evac’d and safe, y’know. She’s the last one I’ve got alive on this earth. D’you ever worry ‘bout your folks, Nick?”

“I… quit seeing them a long time ago,” the man admitted. “Not that they sought any contact with me too, apparently.”

“Think they survived all this?”

“There’s… a chance, I guess. I never thought about it,” he shrugged. He rarely recalled the fact of having relatives somewhere even in the face of zombie apocalypse so it was pointless to ask about them.

“I hope they’re okay somewhere,” Ellis said quietly. “It ain’t good to have your family dead.”

The topic of losing relatives to the Infection and its consequences was seemingly something close to his heart, Nick noticed. They fell silent again but this time he hated it, he hated the very sound of unmoving air around them, hurting his ears with its stillness. They were slowly giving in to that stillness and drowning in it; sequence by sequence, their goal was shifting from surviving to finding an end to this. Any possible way. Nick once heard Rochelle complaining that she couldn’t kill herself with her own gun during those episodes; seeing her break like this wasn’t something he wanted to live up to and apparently fate didn’t contact him for an advice on this. She said she just wanted to finally get some silence when she closed her eyes, not a constant fear of being dragged elsewhere.

 _Silence_. He hated silence so much right now. Ellis was silent like a grave and honestly being in a grave was the only way for him to be so motionless and somber. But Nick didn’t need him lying in a grave, he needed him alive and out just like all of them. They were a team. They were a goddamn separated unbreakable _team_ and it was about time he started acting like it.

“Hey Ellis,” he said slowly, “remember that story you told us… about your buddy going for the… uh, the rollercoaster?” He honestly skipped most of the kid’s ramblings about his troublemaker friend but he still recalled some faint details. Ellis looked at him in confusion.

“Yeah, Keith did that once. He did a lotta stuff, y’know.”

“Yes, yeah, yeah, now can you retell it? I, uh, forgot some details.”

The mechanic chuckled at that and tilted his head. Nick expected him to make a comment about how the gambler constantly told him to shut up about his stories and now he was asking for one specifically, but that didn’t happen and instead Ellis opened his mouth happily to begin the tale… and none came out of it. He stopped mid-sound and frowned, his face clearly showing that he was just as confused as Nick upon watching him. _Oh no,_ he thought, _no no no…_

“I… I can’t… remember the whole thing, Nick,” the kid said, uncertain. “I, I was sure I did but… I just can’t put my finger on it, I… I’m sorry, I guess I can’t tell you what you want.”

It was the end. Nick stared into his embarrassed face and began laughing. Not out of Ellis being funny or the irony finally hitting; it was unmanaged and just coming out of him in sort of hiccups.

“Yeah, real funny when a man forgets somethin’,” the mechanic muttered, folding his hands.

Nick suppressed the stupid hysterical reaction just to look at him and reply with a sigh, “No, no, Ellis, it’s not funny. It’s terrifying.”


End file.
